A Dark Night at Harvard
by some kind of harmony
Summary: The Social Network. Mark/Eduardo Pre-slash. "In this case, Eduardo," Chris says, "ignorance might actually be bliss." A canon-compliant, silly little Halloween fic.


[**Disclaimer:** I'm not quite sure who the fictional characters of The Social Network (as opposed to the real people behind the story, none of whom are part of this fic, obviously) belong to, but they aren't mine. They might be Aaron Sorkin's?]

**A Dark Night at Harvard**

Of all the holidays, Eduardo enjoys Halloween the most. That isn't surprising, in a way, since Eduardo loves any excuse that requires an outfit: business meetings, theme parties, weddings…pretty much anything short of funerals. Because even when Eduardo feels uncomfortable in his own skin (and he does, rather consistently), for some reason he never feels uncomfortable in his own clothes. Every outfit becomes a costume, if one puts enough thought into it. And every outfit is something you can hide behind. He knows other students think he's weird, with his combination of dress clothes (often in classes where everyone's still wearing pajamas) and everyday awkwardness. Eduardo likes being prepared; he likes dressing for the occasion.

Eduardo has a soft spot for Halloween in particular—always has—because on that night everyone dresses up to the extent that he does on every other day.

So even though he's currently wearing a skintight suit, tonight Eduardo isn't nervous and he doesn't feel out of place. For one thing, his Spider-Man mask hides his face (even if his suit doesn't hide anything in regards to his thin, gawky form) and for another, in a sea of sexy nurses, sexy cats and sexy anything-else-that-shows-as-much-skin-as-possible (not that he's complaining) for once Eduardo doesn't stand out.

If anyone stands out here, it's Mark.

It's impressive, really, how Mark enters the party with his hackles raised, shifting from one flip-flopped foot to the other. He's not in costume; of course Mark didn't wear a costume. Mark is Eduardo's polar opposite when it comes to clothes, after all: Eduardo plans every outfit. Some days Mark won't change underwear unless someone makes him. Tragically, Eduardo knows this to be true from actual experience.

Noticing how Mark enters the room already on edge, Eduardo suddenly fears for the rest of the evening. In that moment he's overcome with guilt. He's the one who insisted Mark tear himself away from coding for a few hours and come out. But if Mark's going to be miserable all night long, then what was the point of pressuring him to leave Kirkland? It's pretty much the opposite of the point.

Mark's been weird lately. He split with Erica three weeks ago, and pretty much since that moment Eduardo has wanted to do something, anything he could, to get Mark away from his computer. Mark's been on a three-week-long coding binge, speaking in grunts and refusing to look away from the screen.

Mark will have to look up, though, if only because his administrative hearing occurs next Tuesday. Considering Mark was being called because he _crashed the University network_ while making a website _comparing female students_, Eduardo can't imagine that hearing is going to go well.

So, maybe, just maybe, Eduardo pressured Mark to come out for selfish reasons. If this is one of the last nights Eduardo spends with Mark, if Mark gets expelled, Eduardo wants them to go out with a bang. At the very least, Eduardo doesn't want to miss seeing Mark because his friend is wired in.

And just as Eduardo wonders if it wouldn't have been kinder to just walk over to Mark's dorm with a few beers, no matter how listless Mark would have been (no matter how fast Mark would have given up and left them for his laptop), just as Eduardo doubts, Mark looks across the room to where Eduardo is standing alone behind the drinks table.

Eduardo wants to say that it's impossible that Mark spots him, specifically. He hasn't told Mark (or anyone else, for that matter) which costume he bought, and the mask covers his entire face. Still, Eduardo can't think of another explanation for the way Mark's shoulders slump, instantly relaxing, or the fact that his blank expression is replaced with something that, from across the room, looks like a smirk. (But it can't be, Mark hasn't made that expression in _weeks_).

Mark begins to cross the room, straight towards him, and Eduardo wonders if he knows.

There's safety in Eduardo's costume. Even if Mark somehow knows it's him (_how could he?_), at least Mark can't possibly tell that Eduardo is staring at him, every inch of him. Eduardo's always found Mark fascinating, ever since the day Mark walked straight into Eduardo and then glared angrily as Eduardo picked up his scattered books and tried to form an apology for being in the way. That had been almost a year ago. Mark's still fascinating now, somehow spotting Eduardo, despite his disguise, wearing his God-awful clothes in a sea of people pretending to be something they're not.

Mark doesn't have to pretend, doesn't even want to pretend. He just wants to stand silently with Eduardo, apparently, as Mark takes a spot next to Eduardo, leaning against the wall. Mark doesn't say anything, but he's definitely smirking, Eduardo can tell now. Eduardo doesn't understand, exactly, but he much prefers this over the expression Mark made when he first walked in. And knowing he's somehow the cause for the smirk—he must be, right?—makes Eduardo feel a rush of pride.

"Hi, Wardo," Mark says.

"Hi." Eduardo smiles at him, before he realizes that his mask means Mark can't actually see him smiling. Eduardo clears his throat. "Thanks for coming out tonight. I really appreciate it."

Mark inclines his head in a half-nod. Then he leans back against the wall, just like Eduardo's doing, so that they are side-by-side. After they survey the crowd in silence for a few minutes, Eduardo finally caves and asks.

"So, hey, how did you know it was me? In the costume, I mean."

Mark doesn't answer for a few seconds, doesn't even look at him. Just when the seconds start to feel like minutes, Mark says, "Well," and then stops just as suddenly. It's hardly comforting. Eduardo is about to say as much when he's distracted by a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see that the hand belongs to Chris.

"Hey," Chris says. He looks at Mark, and he's smiling even wider than Mark had when he spotted Eduardo. Eduardo is a little hurt that the smile seems to mean something between the two of them, not that he would ever admit it. Whatever the joke is, it's clearly something Eduardo isn't part of.

"I see you found Wardo," Chris says to Mark.

Mark's smirk returns—actually, Eduardo's not sure it ever went away. "He wasn't hard to spot. Did you figure it out before?"

"Not until I got here, no," Chris says.

Mark nods, accepting the answer as sufficient. But sufficient for what? Eduardo looks from Mark to Chris a few times before he groans. "Neither of you not going to explain this, are you?" Eduardo says.

"No," Mark responds, just as Chris says, "Trust me, you'll learn soon enough."

Eduardo doesn't like surprises. He never liked surprises. Not even surprises that have to do with Halloween.

Eduardo pulls off his mask, grimacing when Mark grins at what must be some excessively messy hat hair (mask hair?) that springs free. "You're kind-of freaking me out, guys. Is there something wrong with my costume? If you can tell it's me, then it defeats the purpose, doesn't it? I mean, Peter Parker's whole thing was his secret identity, not to mention that I hadn't _told_ anyone what I was dressing up as—"

"In this case, Eduardo," Chris interrupts, "ignorance might actually be bliss."

Mark doesn't add anything, but his silence is confirmation enough.

"_Fine_," Eduardo says. (It isn't fine, not really, but since there's nothing he can do about it, it seems smarter to try to forget the weirdness and chalk it up to all the candy Dustin must have been force-feeding them earlier back in the day.)

Instead, Eduardo looks at Chris. He's dressed pretty much the same as he always dresses, except this time his t-shirt has the word "LIFE" written across it in black sharpie. On one hand, it doesn't seem likely that Chris has refused to dress up the way Mark did. On the other hand, Eduardo so doesn't get it.

"So, Chris, you're…life?" Eduardo thinks for a minute. "Is this some kind of political statement?"

In lieu of an answer, Chris reaches into his cargo pants and pulls out two lemons. He hands them to Eduardo, who takes another look at the "LIFE" t-shirt and smiles.

"Sorry, I didn't bring a juicer," he tells Chris. Mark looks Eduardo blankly, so he elaborates. "You know. To make lemonade. Because life is handing me lemons. Because Chris is life…"

Mark doesn't respond, just seems to wait for Eduardo to stick his foot further in his mouth. Luckily, Chris saves him.

"That's okay," Chris says. "I only brought the two lemons. So I really need them back. Otherwise I'm just the guy too cheap to buy a costume."

"Well it's better than Mark in no costume," Eduardo says.

"Yeah, fair point—"

"I have a solution for that!" Someone cries out in falsetto. Eduardo looks over and realizes that someone is—must be—Dustin. But this is Dustin Eduardo's never seen before, because this Dustin is decked out in a tank top, a short denim skirt, a long red-haired wig and _heels_. Also, he seems to have on copious amounts of makeup.

Eduardo freezes in his surprise, but Dustin's costume seems to have the opposite effect on Mark and Chris. The pair have nearly collapsed in their laughter.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god" Chris is saying.

"Oh, _now_ you aren't making fun of me," Dustin pouts. It's a fairly common expression for him, but Eduardo can admit that the lipstick really adds something to the gesture. "Oh, _now_ you get it." He's still using the falsetto. The consistency of the voice makes Eduardo suspect Dustin has been practicing.

"Are you dressed as your female alter-ego?" Eduardo guesses. The wig is practically the color of his hair after all, just a lot longer. Eduardo smiles at him. It's a great costume, if so, and pretty hilarious. How Dustin acquired the (very stuffed) bra that's poking out from beneath his tank top, for example, is a bit of a mind-bending question. "Is there something you're trying to tell us?"

Dustin smiles and grabs Eduardo's arm. "I'm shocked you don't recognize me! Did Doctor Octopus use some kind of mind-wipe on you, Tiger?" He grabs Eduardo, by the shoulders. "You do know that Gwen Stacy's dead, right?" Dustin whispers in melodramatic mock-concern. "She's dead, Peter, and it _isn't your fault._"

Eduardo's pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting. He manages to respond with something along the lines of, "Are you wearing perfume?"

Dustin nods proudly. He takes a step back and spreads his arms wide, indicating his full Mary Jane costume. "So…what do you think?"

From out of nowhere it hits him, as if he's suddenly watching this situation from outside instead of trying to live it, and he realizes he's laughing so hard that his stomach is actually sore. Dustin preens as Eduardo tries to keep standing up straight. Chris is grinning at him, too, and Mark just watches intently as Eduardo nearly collapses.

Once he can breathe again Eduardo tells Dustin that his outfit is amazing, and in return Dustin leans over and kisses Eduardo on the cheek.

Eduardo catches a glimpse of a girl from his macro class, the one who invited him to the party, staring at him, staring at Dustin and him, and he flushes. She's not the only one watching, he notices. They're not malicious looks—if anything, most people look amused. Eduardo can't blame them if they're impressed with Dustin's costume. He really went all out, what with the bra and all.

Still, Eduardo doesn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. If anyone says anything about Eduardo and Dustin and their couple's costume, Chris and Mark will never stop mocking him for it. Eduardo can even imagine Dustin teasing him about it. Meanwhile, Dustin has started clinging to Eduardo's side. Which, since Eduardo's wearing skintight suit, means Dustin is, er, incredibly close. It's all a bit much.

At the same time, Eduardo can't offend Dustin by brushing him off. Not after he put all this work into his outfit. Eduardo sneaks a glance at Mark, who's apparently done looking amused and has started frowning instead. Mark's looking around like he'd rather be anywhere else, like he already wants to leave. Maybe all of the girlfriend-boyfriend jokes are making Mark think about Erica again.

"He's been planning this for weeks," Chris tells Eduardo, who somehow manages to tear his eyes away from studying Mark. "He wouldn't tells us why he was collecting all these pieces of women's clothing. I was half-convinced he was going to come out to us as trans, or he was starting a drag act…not that those would have been bad things! Just weird. Very, very weird."

"In fact," Chris continues, "the only things said were some empty threats about what he would have done if we told you anything about this. Not that we even knew what 'this' was until we both got here and spotted your costume. Then it made a little sense."

"They weren't empty threats!" Dustin cries, forgetting the falsetto for a minute. He clears his throat. "I _mean_," he continues in his high-pitched impression. "They weren't empty threats. I really would have burned all your underwear while singing Disney songs at the top of my lungs."

"Well, you do the latter part of that already," Chris says.

"I could still sing them louder!"

"And the former part is kind of creepy...Do you really want to touch our underwear?"

Dustin pauses, considering this, and Mark takes the opportunity to interject.

"It's not much of a costume, really," Mark says. Eduardo wants to disagree—at least until Dustin sneaks a hand around his waist and Eduardo feels his own face go beet red. Mark glares. "You're already nearly a girl, anyway."

Dustin just sticks his tongue out at Mark, utterly unperturbed. "Sooo," he says, leaning into Eduardo, "how goes the crime-fighting?"

"Not bad," Eduardo jokes back, "gave the Green Goblin a run for his money this week." Eduardo had been certain Dustin had forgotten when he'd mentioned his Halloween plans—that'd been just after Halloween freshman year, when Eduardo hadn't come up with anywhere to go, and thus hadn't even dressed up, and had regretted it instantly. He had vowed to do more the next year, even going so far as to decide on Spider-Man (he'd devoured those comics as a kid)—but apparently Dustin hadn't been lying when he boasted that he had a memory like an elephant—apparently Dustin had not only heard, he'd been planning. And threatening, at that.

"That's my man," Dustin coos back. The voice is kind-of impressive, but not as impressive as the rapidly darkening expression on Mark's face. It's so bad, now, that even Dustin takes notice.

"Oh, don't look so gloomy, Mark," he says, turning his coos in another direction. Dustin reaches into his pink purse (seriously, where did he get all this stuff?) and pulls out a pile of black fabric. He then hands it to Mark, who unfurls it and looks puzzled until he sees a pair of strings at the end. "No," Mark says flatly, handing back the cape.

"You know you want to dress up, too," Dustin informs him.

"I'm not going to be a vampire," Mark says. Still, Eduardo knows that this is a good sign. He hasn't said he isn't going to dress up.

Eduardo realizes he's smiling.

"Close," Dustin says, "but no cigars for you today." He reaches into his purse again and pulls out a black mask with pointed ears. He jams it over Mark's head.

"Okay, that's perfect," Chris says. Eduardo can't help but agree. Mark, who's now in the mask and is glaring at Dustin as Dustin fastens the cape around him, does make the _perfect_ Batman.

"The only pity is that you don't have a Robin," Dustin says. "Even Wardo has an MJ, and you're all side-kick-less."

"What, you didn't bring a Catwoman costume, too?" Chris teases.

"Okay, I'm a master of disguise and Halloween festivities, not a miracle worker," Dustin says. "This outfit took a lot of effort."

"I don't need a Robin," Mark grumbles. "I'm fine alone."

_"Perfection,"_ Dustin sighs.

**.**

It was a great night, in the end, possibly one of their greatest. It wasn't dinner at the most popular sushi restaurant in NYC, there was no girl on Eduardo's arm, he hadn't been accepted to the Phoenix Club, and Mark hadn't yet invented—hadn't even thought of—the greatest social network the world may ever know. It was an ordinary Halloween, really. It was four guys in costumes, it was Eduardo pulling his mask back on and drinking in long looks at Mark like they might be his very last. He was scared that Mark would get expelled, not that their friendship would crash and burn.

Even when he wishes he could forget the rest of it, Eduardo doesn't want to forget that night. It's just, well—he's always loved Halloween.


End file.
